Vengewar

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Almeda’s face puckered into a scowl as if she had swallowed a mouthful of vinegar. “Bitch.”

  Gant’s brows hooded. “Elliel is no longer in Lord Cade’s service. She is disgraced. Her face bears the rune of forgetting.”

  “She should be dead,” Almeda snapped, and Cade glowered at her to be quiet.

  “She has taken service with King Kollanan in Norterra.” Utho leaned forward on the long banquet table. A log popped in the fireplace, startling them. “But she somehow negated the rune of forgetting and regained her memories. She remembers everything.” He paused. “Everything.”

  “I don’t believe her,” Mandan said, because he had already made up his mind. “She lies.”

  Utho gave a somber nod to the young man. “I’m afraid it is all true, my konag, and everyone in this room knows it. She could pose great difficulties. She does not think of the overall benefit of the Commonwealth.”

  “Who would believe her?” Mandan said. “As konag, I’ll say her story is false. I’ll denounce her. That will put an end to the matter.”

  “She has already convinced Kollanan the Hammer,” Utho said. “He wrote a letter to Convera Castle, intending it for Conndur.” He paused to let that sink in. “Kollanan knows what we did, Cade. He knows what I did.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Cade insisted. “No crime was committed. Elliel was my bonded Brava, and I could do with her as I wished.”

  Disturbed, Gant grumbled, “That is not what a Brava is for.”

  Cade looked upset, but Almeda was furious. “We’ll send out assassins to find her! They’ll cut out her tongue and slit her throat so she can no longer speak terrible things about us.”

  Cade silenced his wife’s shrill voice with a gesture. “Elliel would not have caused problems if you hadn’t stabbed her, my dear. All was under control, but you had to ruin it.”

  “My fault? You caused it because you can’t keep your cock where it belongs! I should have used my knife to cut that off instead of stabbing Elliel.”

  Cade lurched from his chair and slammed a palm on the table with a loud crack. “Elliel would have kept her shame to herself, but you, Almeda—you had to turn it into a crisis! You are poison. You’re a shrew. If you didn’t—”

  “Enough!” Utho roared. “I care nothing about your marital squabbles. The Commonwealth doesn’t care. The true crisis occurred when Lady Almeda threatened to expose the Isharan prisoners and our saltpearl operations.” He was a thunderstorm, rounding on the woman. “And because of your actions, Conndur would have been forced to respond. Sadly, he would not have made the correct decision.”

  Though a Brava had a lesser rank than any noble, the others fell silent. He shared a paternal look with his protégé at the head of the table. “Fortunately, Konag Mandan understands. As the war proceeds, he will establish many more camps so the Isharan prisoners can assist us in our effort.”

  Naked jealousy and anger boiled inside Almeda. Gant, the unattractive replacement for Elliel, loomed behind her. Utho remained deeply concerned about the woman’s mental stability, worried that she would blurt out some damning remark to the wrong person. Almeda was reckless and unpredictable. Utho wondered if he would have to take certain measures … for the good of the Commonwealth.

  An acid silence fell over the banquet table. Uncomfortable with a conversation he didn’t entirely understand, Mandan toyed with the saltpearls in the small box, then fell back to eating his fish chowder.

  With a polite knock, a shy, willowy young woman appeared at the door. “Mother? Father? Is this a good time to meet Konag Mandan? Could I join you for dinner?”

  Utho saw a thin girl with green eyes, milk-white skin, and long red tresses. She was maybe fifteen, with a glow of innocence about her. Her oval face had full lips, a delicate nose.

  Although Almeda still wore an expression like rancid cheese, Cade’s mood brightened. “Lira! So sorry I forgot to call you. Yes, join us.” He stepped over to the door and took her slender arm. “Mandan, Sire, this is my daughter.”

  The young konag rose from his chair and stared in astonishment as the beautiful girl entered the room. Averting her eyes, she made a formal curtsy. Her gray and blue gown emphasized her slender figure. Mandan said, “I … I’m very pleased to meet you. Join us. Please take the chair next to me.”

  The girl flushed. “My name is Lira. Did I come at a bad time?”

  “You arrived at exactly the right time,” Mandan said. “I have entirely forgotten what we were arguing about.” He spoke sharply to Cade. “Have your servants bring another place setting. We must take care of this beautiful young lady.”

  Surprised by the konag’s unexpected reaction, Lord Cade scrambled to obey. “Gant, see to it.” Stalking away as if going to face an opponent, the ugly Brava left the room. Cade continued, sounding obsequious, “Lira is our only daughter, Sire, but she is everything a daughter should be.”

  Mandan scolded him. “Why did you not introduce her to me sooner? Truly a failure of responsibility on your part.” He reached out to take the girl’s hand, extricating her from her father to lead her to the empty seat nearest his own. “For years, countless lords and merchants have brought their marriage prospects to me, all of which were unacceptable. If I had met your daughter long ago, Lord Cade, it might have solved all our problems!” He waited for Lira to sit, then took the chair next to her. He was all charm, an entirely different person. “At last I might have found my appropriate wife.”

  Cade was speechless, and Lira seemed ready to faint with shock. Utho was equally surprised by the konag’s reaction, but when he looked at the pale-skinned, redheaded girl, he realized what Mandan was seeing. A royal marriage was exactly what the Commonwealth needed, and Utho would encourage the union, even though Mandan’s attraction was for all the wrong reasons.

  It was as if the painting in the young man’s bedchamber had come alive. The moment Lira entered the room, Utho realized that the girl looked exactly like Mandan’s dead mother Maire.

  26

  THOUGH he disliked the human labor camps, Quo recognized that the sandwreths would need many workers and soldiers for the great battles that were sure to come. He didn’t think much of the inferior creatures. Still, his sister had dispatched him to observe and report back to her, and so he rode his auga out to the miserable holding zone in the canyons.

  The human dwellings were primitive and austere, with harsh conditions and minimal food and water. Mage Axus had often complained bitterly about the sheer number they lost due to neglect, but Quo argued that such difficulties toughened the remaining workers. That was merely an excuse, though, since the lack of care was simply laziness. Mage Ivun had taken over the work camp, administering it with stern but evenhanded control.

  As Quo rode into the main camp, he studied the sullen humans who looked up at his arrival. The camp was filled with a muttering silence. Muscular wreth guards watched over the prisoners who made armor, arrows, shields. The workers looked as if the spark of life had been drained from them.

  He slid off the exhausted reptile’s rounded back as the mage came forward. Ivun’s heavy red robes were embossed with runes that told an arcane tale Quo was not interested in reading. The mage’s withered arm, a visible weakness, was a painful reminder of the land’s shrinking remnants of magic.

  Ivun reached up in greeting, then withdrew his arm in embarrassment and extended his intact hand instead. “You bring the queen’s blessing and her glory.” It was not a question.

  “I come as an observer for Queen Voo.” When he tossed his ivory-gold hair, metal bangles clinked together. He wiped dust from his burnished metal chest plate. “My sister wanted me to see the state of the operations for myself.”

  “Then you shall see.”

  “I am delighted.” Quo’s voice was full of disappointment.

  Thousands of captives lived here and worked for the sandwreth cause until they were all used up, after which wreth hunters would find more workers. Axus had complained it w
as an inefficient method, but fortunately, since the devastation of the wars thousands of years ago, the surviving humans had repopulated the land, and there were plenty of them for the taking.

  Quo sauntered among the humans, who turned away, shading their eyes. They looked defeated, but Quo chose to consider the mood subservient—appropriate for a created race. His lips quirked as he paused to inspect a stockpile of spears and rounded shield forms that still needed metal plates. The people worked slowly, mechanically, but at least they were working.

  Quo turned to Ivun. “Let me address the slaves. I will inspire them.”

  The mage gave him a skeptical look. With his good hand, he scratched his withered arm and withdrew it deeper into the leather sleeve. “How will that inspire them?”

  “I will remind them of what they are and what our purpose is.”

  The bald mage wrinkled his brow, but he did not argue. Ivun stepped to the red rock wall beside him and slapped it hard with his good hand. A rumbling boom shot out and echoed down the narrow canyons. The sound spread like ripples from a stone thrown into a still pond. “All human work parties come to the center of camp! Present yourselves for an important guest!”

  If Quo thought they would come running with excitement, he was disappointed. The slaves at nearby stations shuffled forward and stood blinking like herd animals. Guards riding augas drove work teams ahead of them, forcing the human captives to stumble into his presence.

  Impatient, Quo glared at Ivun, who merely shrugged. “They are coming as quickly as they can.”

  Quo heaved a breath of the hot dusty air and wondered how long this would take. His sister did not expect him back for several days, but he did not like this isolation. It was not fit for a wreth noble.

  Although workers still plodded in from the distant mines, he had waited long enough. Quo lifted a delicate hand, expecting cheers from the audience. “Worthy laborers under the command of her glorious majesty, Queen Voo, you have been brought here to help us accomplish the perfection of the world. Although your efforts might seem pitiful and weak, know that your meager accomplishments contribute to building an invincible army against our enemies. You will have a small but vital role in crushing the frostwreths.”

  He scanned the crowd and saw the shadowed eyes, the slumped shoulders. None of the humans had responded to his words. None of them seemed to care. It annoyed him. Quo realized that these people were simply too stupid to see reality and their place in it.

  He raised his voice again. “You may think you have no stake in the coming war, but the only hope you have is for sandwreths to win. If you do your part in exterminating the enemy, if we have our chance to slay Ossus and bring about a better world, then you will forever know the good you have done. That is why your race was created. What better satisfaction can you experience than to serve your precise purpose?”

  Quo wanted to coerce some kind of reaction from them. “And we need more of your people. Do what humans do best! Breed! Have many children.” He chuckled. “The breeding process is enjoyable, if you do it properly.”

  Among the captives, he spotted several half-breeds, descendants of lovers the ancient wreths had impregnated long ago. “I may even take some of your women as my own partners, to give you more powerful offspring.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It is a fine way for you to serve the future.”

  Though the response was only a sullen muttering, Quo chose to hear it as cheers. He was anxious to leave, but he would work with Mage Ivun to make this camp into the productive example that Queen Voo wanted.

  They had an army to build, weapons to make, and the future to secure.

  * * *

  Listening to the arrogant wreth noble, Glik felt a simmering anger that burned outward in a circle. She wondered if humans could tap into the darkness that Ossus exuded into the world—and use it. Around the fringes of her vision, she saw scales, heard a growling sound. She forced herself to blink away the afterimage of a huge slitted eye.

  How could the wreths slay the dragon and eradicate Kur’s evil when they themselves were the personification of such things, without even realizing it?

  Cheth stood next to her, sneering softly at Quo’s dictum. “Breed! If he tried to take me, I would twist his manhood from him like I would pluck a squash from a vine.”

  Glik snickered. “And I am too young. Only twelve … I think.” She sketched a quick circle around her heart. As an orphan, she had a difficult time knowing exactly how old she was. “Haven’t begun my courses yet.”

  Cheth drew her brows together. “I hope you are right, but do not expect our captors to be kind or fair or to respect modesty.”

  The other slaves did not show their anger. The survivors had learned how to hide any flare-up of emotions. The wreths could hunt them down if they tried to escape. Glik was familiar enough with the labyrinth of canyons to know she could hide, at least for a while, but how would she ever cross the desert? The wreths would hunt her down. But she didn’t give up hope. Cheth and her fellow Brava prisoners held the same attitude.

  After the wreth man finished his speech, he commanded the warriors to take him to guest quarters in the stone mansion that Ivun had fashioned for himself. The work teams went back to their endless and hopeless tasks.

  With Quo gone, Ivun strolled curiously among the groups. The Bravas continued sparring with one another, and the mage seemed to be counting them. Self-consciously pulling his withered arm up against his chest, he looked at Glik and her nearby companions and nodded to himself.

  “I want fifty workers! We march first thing in the morning. Auga teams will lead you to the site.” With his good hand, the mage stroked his chin. “We will go north to an ancient wreth battlefield that is still infused with magic. Shadowglass is a resource we require. It will make our weapons invincible.”

  Glik remembered the blasted scar from one of the climactic clashes in the ancient wars. “The Plain of Black Glass,” she muttered.

  Cheth looked at her. “You know the place, then?”

  “Been there. Cra, it is a terrible place.”

  The Brava woman shrugged. “So is this camp, and I will be happy for a change of scenery.”

  27

  BEFORE departing to seek out the sandwreth queen, Adan had heavy thoughts in his heart. His beloved Penda and her father were departing to lose themselves in the vastness of Suderra so she could have the baby in safety, where Queen Voo could never find them.

  Now, before Penda mounted up on her familiar chestnut mare, Adan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He could feel the baby between them and the beating of her heart. Penda’s crimson-and-black skirts were loose and comfortable to accommodate the swell of her belly.

  She tilted her head to kiss him and let her mouth linger next to his ear. “Don’t worry about me, my Starfall.”

  Adjusting his saddle, Hale Orr called his reassurance. “She probably has more stamina than I do. Cra, she’ll be fine with me.”

  “If you hear even the slightest breath of trouble, do everything in your power to keep her safe.” Adan filled his voice with hope and concern. “Take no chances.”

  The two skas flew about inside the stables and landed on the rafters above, bobbing their heads and chittering at the people below. Xar and Ari took flight again, circling, pecking, playing, but Adan could see only his wife.

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “If there is any possible way, I will send you a message.” She drew a circle over her heart and then over his. “The beginning is the end is the beginning.”

  He clasped her hand, then released her. Penda mounted the mare, and she and her father rode away from the castle. The two reptile birds darted out of the stables and flew overhead, following the horses toward the eastern gates.

  Utauk tribes wandered the known and unknown roads of the land, and Adan knew that Penda and Hale could vanish among them.

  In the meantime, though, he and King Kollanan had the opposite purpose. They wanted to find
the sandwreths.

  * * *

  The terrain became bleak and rocky soon after Adan’s expedition left the Suderran foothills and wound its way through the mountains. An escort of Banner guards rode alongside the two kings, mainly for show, since even a hundred soldiers would do little good if the sandwreths decided to attack. Adan was confident they would not. It wouldn’t serve Queen Voo’s purpose.

  As they followed unmarked routes to the edge of the desert, Adan squinted into the heat ripples. The horses plodded along, and they would have to find water for them soon. The sandwreth queen had promised that her warriors would meet Adan’s party, but he doubted they would consider the welfare of the animals.

  The canyon walls were sharply defined by midafternoon shadows, and the washes and side canyons reminded him of the images from Glik’s ska. Somewhere out here, countless human captives were being treated as animals, but the work camp was probably well hidden. He gritted his teeth, tasting dust, and braced himself to maintain his calm when he actually faced Voo again. He would not betray his knowledge of the human work camps. As far as Queen Voo knew, they were friends and allies, but Adan would never trust her or forget his people.

  Elliel sat up straighter in her saddle, looking around, warily touching her sword as she sensed something. Thon smiled and raised a hand. “Look, they have found us at last.”

  Carrying long spears, five wreth warriors rode their augas forward. The stocky two-footed lizard mounts lurched ahead, flickering black tongues. Captain Elcior called a halt of his Banner guards, and the riders faced the ancient warriors, who regarded the two kings and their escort.

  The horses whickered uneasily. The lead warrior said, “Follow us. We will go slowly. Your horses are not made for this terrain.” He tossed his long hair and turned his auga about. “We will create water when we need to.”